


you tell me

by softgrungeprophet



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Arguing, Explicit Language, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Non-Graphic Violence, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: Wade stabs himself in the hand.





	you tell me

_Chop, chop, chop_.

All those swimming internal thoughts, as he sliced—and expertly too, narrow rings falling perfectly to the cutting board, repetitive motion and sound as those nagging thoughts in the back of his head tried to crowd to the forefront of his focus. He'd gotten too good at cooking. It was, God forbid, _soothing_. Let his mind wander too much. A jumble of fighting beratements and self-loathing and urges—

"Ah, shit."

Wade wiggled the knife back and forth, gripped in his fist, until he could pull it out of the heavy wood of the cutting board, and also... out of his hand.

Fucking idiot. Got too comfortable. But what a hole it left. Truly impressive.

"...Wade?"

Oh. Right.

"Ah, SHIT." He tossed the knife into the sink, flexing his hand through the layers of pain. "I forgot you were _here_."

Peter frowned, as he leaned into the doorway. "Did you _stab_ yourself?"

"No, I tripped and fell into a knife—Yes, I stabbed myself!" Wade grimaced. "Idiot."

"Wh—"

"Not _you_." He reached for the faucet, to at least rinse some of the blood off of the blade and down the drain. " _Me_. I'm the idiot. Can't deny those urges, baby! Just stab yourself, it'll be fun! Stupid."

Peter sighed, and by the way he'd nestled himself into the doorway, it looked like he wanted to have a Capital-C Conversation. Probably about _feelings_. Gross. Wade sighed right back at him, intending to be mocking, but it came out as resigned instead, and if that didn't make him wanna rip his non-existent hair out, _boy_. He grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing at his (nice! genuine wood! expensive!) cutting board, waiting for Peter to spit out whatever little spiel about self-control he was bound to start.

"Listen, Wade."

Here it comes.

"I get it."

Uh-huh.

"Sometimes, when I'm out there, I get that little voice in the back of my head too... What if I just let go?"

Wait, what.

Wade glanced over at Peter. He wasn't looking at him, he was looking just off to the side, at an outlet or something, gesturing lightly with his words.

"It scares me, sometimes. I'm afraid one day I'll be... God knows how many feet in the air, and just... let go."

"You—" Wade points his sponge at Peter. "You're just trying to make me feel better. Joke's on you, I didn't feel bad in the first place."

Peter rolled his eyes.

The blood was not coming out of the wood.

"Man, I liked this fucking cutting board." Wade picked the whole thing up, as he used his foot to open the cupboard beneath the sink, and dropped  it into the trash with a heavy thud. He washed his hands, and dried them on a dish towel, and he managed to ignore Peter's stare boring a hole into the back of his head for like, a full thirty seconds. He turned so they were face-to-face. " _What_?"

The guy smiled at him—smiled! Why? Was he crazy? Oh, he was saying something.

"—onions?"

"What."

"I said, did you throw away the onions?"

" _Shit_."

Peter held his hands out, all placating and... reasonable. "Hey. We can order out."

Yeah, okay, that was true. No need for the cacophony of " _You fuckup, pay more attention next time, cause there's always a next time you dumb piece of—_ "

"Wade."

He'd been scratching his arm raw. Since when? Just five seconds ago? This whole time?

"It's _fine_. You're human, right? You make mistakes, you hurt yourself. I do too."

"You do too? You're nothing _like_ me, kid. For one thing, you're hot, in a nerdy way. I look like a raw chicken breast went through a meat grinder and then reanimated itself. Is that _human_?"

"Hey, you're bipedal. No feathers, or anything. Behold! A man!"

Wade looked at Peter like he'd grown a second head. "I—what?"

"...sorry."

But Wade couldn't help but laugh. "Petey-boy, do me a favor—"

"Yeah?"

"Stop trying to _relate_ to me, please." He opened the fridge—nothing good in there. "I know you mean well, but it's more than a little annoying." He slammed the refrigerator door shut, maybe a little harder than he meant to.

"Listen, jackass—" Oh, shit—the boy was getting _spicy_. "I'm not trying to 'relate' to you, I don't need to relate to you, but maybe you're not the only person in the world with _problems_."

"PROBLEMS?!" He knew he shouldn't raise his voice, but Christ, he couldn't stop himself. "My entire BODY is made of CANCER! What the fuck have you got, Spiderboy?! Oh nooo, my uncle died, I'm so _sad_ —Everyone I've ever known is either already dead or they're gonna be soon!" Wade stalked over to Peter, as he spoke—grabbed him by the front of his hoodie. Growled, "And when it happens, I'll be standing over your body, just like everyone else."

Okay, the kid looked a little shaken...

Peter narrowed his eyes. His voice came out quiet, but firm. "You wouldn't dare."

Kid?

"I'm _Deadpool_."

Not a kid.

"You're Wade Wilson, and Wade Wilson is afraid."

28 years old.

And that 28 year old was right.

Wade let him go. "The fuck do I have to be afraid of?" Couldn't meet his eyes, though, and his voice had dropped to a halfhearted mutter.

Smoothing down his sweatshirt, Peter said, "You tell me."

It was Wade's turn to roll his eyes. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket—had a pizza place on speed dial—and grumbled, "Whaddya want on your pizza, shithead?"

Peter grinned. "Pineapple."

Oh, for the love of—

"Pizza Pantheon, can I take your order?"

**Author's Note:**

> Woo boy I meant for this to be more light-hearted but it ended up kind of grim and jokeless in the end, with the arguing, and the threatening.
> 
> Sorry if this is a bummer and like, wildly OOC. But hey, what can you do.  
> Not really sure why Peter is at what I assume is Wade's place (I honestly didn't give either subject much thought). Movie night I guess.
> 
> As always, lemme know if I should add a tag or adjust a rating.


End file.
